Water-Dog

April 21 2015


Open water
between the ice and the shore.
As if the lake, locked in airless dark

can finally breathe,

a hopeful crack

in a hard winter.

In first light

a skim of ice
has quickly lifted,
rocks glistening
mud belching
its decomposing smells.

The dogs splash in,
impervious to cold
and heedless, anyway.

Do they remember spring,
the comings and goings
year after year?
Or is everything eternally new,
a circus of constant delights
in which to play?

How matter-of-fact they are, how blithely accepting,
when the entire world

has over-turned;

from frozen stillness

to warmth, and light, and wetness.

Because there is no questioning, in dogs,

immersed in the moment

and then the next.

While I worry

of freezing death, and injured legs,

retreating ice

the cutting edge.
But no such angst, for them.

Like opposite poles
a lake attracts a water-dog;
invisible lines
of irresistible force
draw her in.
And in the over-heated thickness

of her winter coat
she plops herself down
into blissful cold,
oblivious to chill.

How envious am I

of her bottomless dive.

The immaculate skill
as she shakes herself dry,

her blind faith

and singular focus.

Her freedom from worry, and cold,

the strangle-hold

time has on us.

Cat lovers won't get past the 3rd stanza. Many dog owners will persevere to the end. And those of us who are privileged to share our lives with Labs will thoroughly get it!

I really do resist writing dog poems. But every month or so, one comes of its own volition, and I reward myself with a little self-indulgence. Fundamentally, they're all different versions of the same poem: sentimental paeans to the abiding virtues of dogs -- their loyalty, athleticism, enthusiasm, and ability to live in the moment; their absence of vanity; and their unconditional love, free of grudge or judgment. And above all, their purity; by which I mean how true they are to their essential nature. If only we humans could aspire to such unselfconscious integrity. (Or maybe not; since I'm not so sanguine about our essential nature!)

So I keep writing different versions of the same thing, hoping that one day I'll actually get it right!

The expression "magnetic attraction" invariably comes to mind when I see her bee-lining to the nearest puddle. Here, the 2nd last stanza is a good example of not saying it, but showing it. And I quite like eternally new: because despite its inherent contradiction (if it's eternal, it's not new!), I'm sure this is exactly how dogs must feel: their eternal enthusiasm making even the same-old seem new.

I realize there are neurotic, angry, abused, and destructive dogs out there; while I'm lucky enough to have the perfect dog. So although it may seem as if I'm idealizing, I'm not: every word here is absolutely true (well, mostly -- she's actually pretty wary getting in if the bottom isn't clear). If not a paean to all dogs, then, this poem is at least an homage to the beloved Skookum, as well as her best buddy, Taz (canine buddy, that is!)